Vendetta
by Her Name Is Erika
Summary: Michael Barrett settles an old, but odd vendetta with a bit of help. MichaelLola. For Maddie.


**A/N: I'm in the holiday spirit, and my birthday is tomorrow. Hope you enjoy this. It's a drabble of sorts. Especially you, Maddie. This is for you. **

**Disclaimer: Sorry if you were expecting Dan Schneider. Just plain old Erika. **

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**Vendetta**

Dear Santa,

Michael Barrett, here. You know, the really good kid from Atlanta who actually _stayed_ good all year.

I'm seventeen now, thank you.

I found out at age 10, you didn't exist and the North Pole with all of those worker elves were probably just stolen from Willy Wonka's factory. I guess your elves were just Oompa Loompas. Either way, the way you promised me all this stuff for Christmas and then nothing, not cool at all. Rudolph's red "glowing" nose is probably an extreme case of a cold. Oh, don't worry I have a nice bowl of Grandma Barrett's hot soup right here, and I'll gladly give it to Rudolph.

See? I lied. Rudolph doesn't exist either, just like the tooth fairy…but I kinda like the money.

But beside the point, Santa because I have a bone to pick with you. You owe me the following:

- a sled – one that was all tricked out and personalized.

- Rock 'Em, Sock 'Em Robots – because it's funny beating Logan at this. Ha.

- 64 Pack Crayons – thank you for stifling my artistic dream, Claus. Are you happy now?

The way you gave me false hope, man? Not drippin' at all. In fact, it's so flumpy, it should be a crime.

Now, I'm going to get rid of this letter because you're not real, but the seriously wicked cool party going down in the girls' lounge is. But after I get my present.

Glow in the dark clackers are cool. Using innocent, poor, and NOT real Oompa Loompas for labour aren't.

Peace,

Michael Barrett

--

"So, what do you think?"

The brunette laughed, her bright smile and a red and white Santa Claus hat adorned on her head, "Michael, this is totally true. I understand. The day I found out Santa wasn't coming down my chimney was traumatizing."

"Amen to that!" Michael agreed, brightly, and Lola offered her palm up in a high-five because she could always trust Michael. She could always confide in him for almost anything, and the thought made me smile as they smacked hands in a friendly, but meaningful high-five."Shall we go party it up, m'lady?"

"We shall, kind sir," the slender brunette returned, linking an arm with Michael's offered one.

Laughing and giggling all the way, Michael and Lola walked in the girl's lounge filled with a new sense of resolve.

"Those glow-in-the-dark clackers you got me were tight, Lola."

Lola shrugged, "Only to make up for being my guy BFF. Lisa's a lucky girl to have a guy like you."

"Yes," Michael nodded, wrapping Lola up in a hug. "But you're my girl BFF too – just without the girl talk and the giggling about hair, and _nails_."

"And yet you cried at the end Titanic."

"No, I didn't," Michael defended, with mock offense, while Lola snickered. Sure, he got fogged up, but the theatre was too dark and the screen was too bright. It hurt his eyes. He mostly definitely didn't cry at movies, even though Jack did die and Rose had to throw the Heart of the Sea into the river in a deep, heartfelt manner – no, Michael wasn't crying. "It was my allergies again. You know, I'm allergic to…theatre lights. Always have been."

A giggle escaped her lips, "Sure, but don't you feel better put this thing with Santa to rest?"

"Yeah," he replied, smiling down at her. Michael wrapped his arm around Lola in a heartfelt hug because he really did consider her to be something of a little sister, and always felt protective of her. "Happy Holidays, Lola. Thanks for helping me solve my thing with Santa. The letter thing helped."

"Happy Holidays, Michael," she replied, in a whisper when she hugged him back. Pulling away, she looked at him with an affirmative nod of her nod. It made the festive headgear she was wearing bounce, and jingle slightly. "Anytime."

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**A/N: Oh God, this sucks. I hate it. Sorry, I didn't do my best. Please review and tell me this didn't suck. On another note, I'm officially nineteen – Canadian drinking age, lol. So, I'm off to sleep. Reviews would be nice to get in the morning as birthday present if you can't give me anything else. Sorry for any mistakes you may find.**

**-Erika **


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